Fataliter
by plumtuckered
Summary: Can two people become friends twice in a lifetime? (Archer,Tucker friendship)
1. Default Chapter

TITLE: Fataliter  
  
AUTHOR: plumtuckered  
  
RATING: PG-13  
  
GENRE: Drama/Adventure  
  
DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of these characters. I also borrowed the monitoring station idea from the series.  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story takes place just after "Proving Ground", but before "Azati Prime". This is more or less a "filler" story since it takes place in between several episodes. There is a heavy emphasis on the friendship between Archer and Trip, a relationship that, in my little world, has been gaining strength "off camera". Also, I stretched the timeline out quite a bit in order to make all the events fit.  
  
Thanks in advance to those of you who read this! Any comments, positive or otherwise, are most welcomed and appreciated!  
  
Fataliter – adv., according to fate (Latin)  
  
  
  
PART ONE  
  
  
  
Dr. Phlox pressed the door chime for the third time and waited; still no response. He took a deep breath then keyed in his medical override code, pressed his thumb against the pad, then watched as the door to the captain's quarters slid open.  
  
The Denobulan stepped hesitantly into the darkened room. "Captain?"  
  
"Not now, Phlox."  
  
Nonplussed, Enterprise's medical officer continued forward. "I think now is as good a time as any, Captain," he said.  
  
Jonathan Archer sat up on his bed and squinted at Phlox through the gloom. "I'm doing my job, Doctor. I'm being the good Starfleet captain during the day so let me have the evenings to myself, all right? Is that too much to ask?"  
  
"You are indeed doing your job and very well, I might add. But I'm not here as your doctor, Captain. I'm here as your friend."  
  
Archer stood up slowly and stepped over to his view port. He ran a hand back through his short-cropped hair and sighed. "I miss him," he said. "But hey, we're on our way back to the Xindi testing ground, aren't we? I turned the ship around and left him just like a good commander is supposed to do, right? Put the good of the many ahead of the good of the few or in this case, the one?" He laughed without mirth. "I'm a great commanding officer, aren't I Phlox?" The laughter stopped. "But not much of a man."  
  
Phlox moved tentatively to the captain's side. "You had no other choice," he replied quietly.  
  
"Right, no other choice," Archer repeated sadly. "I could've left T'Pol in command, taken a shuttle out to look for him---."  
  
"Captain."  
  
Archer waved his hand. "I know, I know. The very survival of my world is at stake here and that's what I keep telling myself every single minute of every single day." He looked over at Phlox. "But Trip was my best friend, Phlox. And now he's gone."  
  
"There's no proof the commander is dead."  
  
The captain nodded. "Not yet. But how long can he survive in that shuttle? And how long can that shuttle survive in that anomaly field?" Archer shook his head. "T'Pol still doesn't know why the Trellium-D didn't work."  
  
"Commander Tucker is very resourceful, Captain. Don't give up on him so easily."  
  
Archer snorted derisively. "Easily? You think I'm giving up on him so easily? There's nothing easy about the way I'm feeling, Phlox. The man I love like a brother is more than likely dead and I'm just sitting----." His voice quivered. "Damn it, Phlox. I had to leave him behind."  
  
Phlox took the captain's elbow and guided him to the bed then helped him to sit. He waited until Archer had calmed then sat on the bed at his side.  
  
"When this damned weapon is destroyed, I'll come back for him even if it's only to retrieve his body," Archer managed then he inhaled deeply. "He was family to me, Phlox."  
  
"I know."  
  
Archer sighed. "Trip's been at my side for almost ten years." He exhaled a shaky breath. "He's the only reason I haven't lost myself on this mission, Doc. He's always been my touchstone."  
  
"I'm not sure this will help but I know for certain the commander felt the same about you, Captain. He loved you---loves you just as you love him," Phlox replied. "I don't believe I've ever seen two people more loyal to each other than you and Commander Tucker." The doctor eyed the captain. "As I said before, he's quite resourceful. Don't give up on him."  
  
The captain lifted his chin from his chest and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Why did I ever agree to let him take the shuttle out to that sphere? We'd already gathered plenty of data for T'Pol from the other ones. And she told me she was getting strange readings from that anomaly field. Why didn't I tell Trip no?"  
  
"As I recall, Mr. Tucker insisted," replied Phlox gently. "Something about not knowing it was identical without seeing it for himself?"  
  
Archer sighed again. "He's gone, Phlox and I can't turn the ship around and head off to search for him. I have to complete this mission." He looked down at his hands. "Trip's really gone."  
  
The captain stood and moved back to his view port and not for the first time, Phlox wondered if the man had finally reached his breaking point.  
  
  
  
Day fifteen, Jon thought numbly as he sat down in his chair on the bridge. Ten days since he'd ordered the search for Trip abandoned, since he'd ordered his friend to his possible death. Jon swallowed hard. He was on duty now, captain of the first deep space Earth vessel, his world's only hope of survival. He straightened his posture, lifted his chin and looked out at the streaking stars.  
  
"Captain," said Ensign Hoshi Sato. "We're being hailed, sir."  
  
Jon looked at the young woman. "Hailed? By whom?" he asked.  
  
Hoshi shook her head in confusion. "The Andorians, sir."  
  
"Shran," Jon spat. He stood and exhaled a long breath then nodded at his communications officer. Only a moment passed before Commander Shran's blue countenance appeared before him.  
  
"Captain Archer," Shran said evenly. "I wish I could say it's good to see you again."  
  
"What do you want, Shran. I thought you were turning tail and heading home."  
  
The Andorian's lips tightened. "If you recall, our last encounter left my ship all but inoperable."  
  
"I don't have time for this, Commander. I can't spare anyone to help with your repairs."  
  
"I've already attained all the help I need, Pink Skin."  
  
"Then what do you want?"  
  
Shran's face softened. "I have something that belongs to you."  
  
Jon furrowed his brows in confusion.  
  
"We came across an abandoned shuttle thirteen days ago. I believe it belongs to you?"  
  
"Abandoned?" asked Lieutenant Malcolm Reed.  
  
Shran's gaze moved to the armory officer. "Abandoned, Lieutenant," he replied. He looked at Jon again. "I am willing to return your property."  
  
Jon nodded but could not find his voice to respond. Abandoned.  
  
The Andorian's lips curled into a gentle smile. "I would also like to return something else that belongs to Enterprise. I'm sending you our coordinates."  
  
"Shran," Jon blurted but the blue face disappeared. He looked at Hoshi. "Get him back, Ensign!"  
  
Hoshi shook her head. "He's not responding, sir."  
  
"Captain," said Sub-commander T'Pol. "I've received some coordinates. They're less than three light years away."  
  
"Set a course, Travis," ordered Jon.  
  
"Aye, sir," replied the young helmsman. "Captain, do you think they have--- do you think they found---?"  
  
"Let's go find out, Ensign," Jon managed. For the first time in days, the captain felt hope.  
  
  
  
Malcolm stood tense and at the ready at his captain's side as the airlock light turned green. He pressed the controls and the door slid open to reveal Commander Shran. The Andorian stepped forward, his hands clasped behind his back. He nodded at both T'Pol and Malcolm before his eyes settled on Archer.  
  
"Where is he?" asked the captain. "Where is Trip? Please tell me you have him, Shran."  
  
Shran nodded and his cold blue eyes warmed. "He's on my ship, Captain, but before you're pink skin gets too flushed with excitement, there's something you should know."  
  
"Is he hurt?" asked Malcolm.  
  
"Mr. Tucker's physical injuries were not severe, Lieutenant. My ship's physician was able to treat him."  
  
"Then let me see him," Archer demanded. He took a step to move around the Andorian but Shran grabbed his arm. "Let me see him, Shran!"  
  
"He doesn't remember any of you, Captain."  
  
Archer stopped. "What?"  
  
"Four days ago, we came upon an alien vessel. We hailed them, asked them for help with our repairs. They refused," Shran explained. He squinted his eyes briefly at the memory. "They were not a hospitable species, unlike you pink skins," he continued with a hint of sarcasm. "So in keeping with procedure, we scanned their vessel. Lieutenant Talas detected a human bio-sign and we managed to transport Mr. Tucker off their ship. Thankfully, our weapons were not damaged in our little encounter with Enterprise so Talas disabled their engines before they could raise shields." He looked up at Archer. "You have no idea how surprised I was when I discovered it was the good Mr. Tucker we'd saved."  
  
"You said he doesn't remember us," interjected T'Pol, her voice tight with controlled patience.  
  
Shran dipped his head. "The last thing he remembers is his promotion to lieutenant in your Starfleet, Captain."  
  
Archer gasped audibly. "That was ten years ago."  
  
"I'm sorry. Somehow they managed to strip him of his personal memories but leave his technical skills intact. He helped us with our final repairs."  
  
Malcolm shook his head in confusion. "So he doesn't remember anything that's happened in the last decade?"  
  
"That's right, Lieutenant. My doctor and I told him what we could, that he was Chief Engineer on Enterprise, a commander in Starfleet." The Andorian took a breath. "We didn't tell him about the attack on Earth or about his sister."  
  
"Trip," breathed Archer.  
  
Malcolm glanced up at his commanding officer as realization hit him. "Captain," he whispered. "He won't remember you."  
  
Archer closed his eyes briefly.  
  
  
  
Jon opened his eyes and looked down at Shran. "I want to see him."  
  
The Andorian nodded. "Talas is bringing him up from engineering. He should be here momentarily."  
  
"You said he'd been hurt?"  
  
"There were signs of abuse, bruises, burns, needle tracks, but my doctor was able to treat them."  
  
"Thank you, Shran," Jon said softly. "Thank you for saving him."  
  
Shran smiled. "I always liked Commander Tucker, Pink Skin," he replied.  
  
Jon's eyes moved from the Andorian to the young man who suddenly appeared in the airlock doorway.  
  
Trip looked exhausted and scared but he stepped forward quickly and stood at attention. "Commander Charles Tucker reporting for duty, sir," he announced briskly. His eyes met Jon's then his head tilted. "Aren't you Commander Jonathan Archer? Henry Archer's son?"  
  
Jon's heart broke. "I'm Captain Archer now, Trip."  
  
"Sorry, sir."  
  
The captain patted Trip's arm. "It's okay."  
  
The engineer looked slightly startled at Jon's touch but he remained standing straight and tall.  
  
"I'm Sub-commander T'Pol, Commander," said the Vulcan science officer. "Welcome home."  
  
"A Vulcan on a Starfleet vessel?" asked Trip incredulously. He shook his head in bewilderment. "I apologize, Sub-commander, but a lot must've changed over the last ten years for Vulcans and humans to be serving together."  
  
"Indeed, Mr. Tucker," replied T'Pol.  
  
"Lieutenant Malcolm Reed," said the armory officer. He extended his hand. "You've been sorely missed, Commander."  
  
Trip took Malcolm's hand. "Thanks, Lieutenant," he replied then he looked back at Jon. "I know I've served with you all for three years but I can't remember---I'm trying but----," his voice faltered and he brought a hand up to rub at his forehead.  
  
"Are you alright?" asked T'Pol.  
  
Trip nodded. "Yeah. I'm fine. Just a headache, is all."  
  
Jon bit his lip. He had Trip back and that was all that mattered, he told himself firmly.  
  
"Captain, perhaps Mr. Tucker should see Dr. Phlox?" offered T'Pol.  
  
Trip visibly blanched. "If it's all the same to you, I'd like to get settled in my quarters then take a tour of the ship, see engineering."  
  
"T'Pol's right, Trip," replied Jon. "Let's have Dr. Phlox take a look at you. Maybe there's something he can do."  
  
Trip looked at Shran then back at Jon. "Dr. Kavoc already looked at me, Captain. I've gotten a clean bill of health."  
  
"I'd like Phlox to----," began Jon.  
  
"No," Trip blurted suddenly. "Sir, I don't want to see another doctor. I'd just like to get back to my life." He lifted one hand to his head and gently rubbed at his temple. "Or at least what's left of it."  
  
Jon reached out and squeezed Trip's arm. "Alright," he said gently. "T'Pol, would you and Malcolm walk Trip to his quarters? I'd like to talk with Shran for a minute."  
  
"Of course," replied T'Pol. "Commander?"  
  
Trip looked at T'Pol then at the Andorian. "You're not leaving, are you?"  
  
Shran smiled slightly. "Not just yet, Mr. Tucker."  
  
Jon watched as Trip walked away with Malcolm and T'Pol on either side of him then he turned back to Shran. "I'd like Dr. Phlox to have all the medical records you have on Trip."  
  
Shran nodded then looked back at Talas who stood silently behind him. "Have Kavoc come up. I think it would be good if he talked with their doctor face to face."  
  
"Yes, Commander," replied Talas. She turned and disappeared from view.  
  
"I want to know exactly what happened to Trip, Shran. Everything."  
  
  
  
Phlox read the last sentence of the medical file then looked up at the Andorian doctor. "Evidence of torture," he hissed.  
  
Kavoc nodded. "I believe that the commander's memories are still there, they've just been forced into a room somewhere in his mind."  
  
"And the door to that room has been locked," finished Phlox.  
  
"Yes. Whenever I've tried to get him to remember, the headache flares up. He also seems to be having trouble sleeping." Kavoc sighed. "I'm hoping with time, Doctor, his memory will return but for now---."  
  
Phlox tapped the data padd against his palm. "All this for slave labor," he muttered. "And I'm sure this species believes it's civilized." He took a deep, calming breath. "I thank you for treating the commander's injuries, Doctor, and for sharing your findings with me."  
  
"I truly wish I could've done more," replied Kavoc.  
  
  
  
Trip stood in the center of his quarters and looked around.  
  
"So nothing seems familiar?" asked Archer from where he sat on Trip's bunk.  
  
"Nothing," replied the engineer. "Like I told the sub-commander and lieutenant earlier, I don't recognize this room." He pointed at the diver's helmet on top of his storage locker. "I remember that but only because it's from my granddad. He gave it to me when I turned eighteen."  
  
"I know," Archer replied.  
  
Trip looked at the older man askance. "Lieutenant Reed said that you and I were friends and that we met just after I got my lieutenant's pip."  
  
Archer nodded. "That's right. Did he say anything else?"  
  
"Just that we were close," Trip replied. He stepped over to his desk and picked up a picture in which he appeared side by side with Archer. "I'm sorry I don't remember."  
  
"It'll come back, Trip," said the captain. He appeared at Trip's elbow. "That was taken at Jupiter Station, just after you'd won big in a poker match." Archer chuckled at the memory. "Those were good times."  
  
Trip smiled. "We do look kinda happy, don't we? It's so strange to see myself here with you, to know that we were close friends, but not be able to remember any of it." He put the picture down then picked up the photo of his sister, Elizabeth. "I guess I should contact my family," he continued. "My folks are both still alive, aren't they?"  
  
Archer hesitated. "You're folks are fine," he replied.  
  
Trip swallowed hard. "But," he prompted with sudden trepidation.  
  
The captain took the picture from Trip's hand and set it back on the shelf. "I didn't want to have this discussion with you yet but I guess I have no choice."  
  
"What is it? What's happened, Captain?" asked Trip, unable to hide the fear from his voice.  
  
Archer took Trip's arm and guided him to his bunk. "Sit down, Trip. This isn't going to be easy."  
  
"Hey, you're scaring me here, sir," Trip replied as he sat.  
  
The older man knelt in front of him. "Several months ago, a species called the Xindi attacked Earth," he began. "They used a weapon, killed millions of people from Florida to Cuba."  
  
"Oh, God," breathed Trip as he felt his stomach knot. He held Archer's eyes. "Florida?"  
  
"Your sister was killed, Trip. I'm so sorry."  
  
Trip shook his head. "That can't be right," he said with conviction. "She's living in Georgia with my folks, going to architecture school in Atlanta."  
  
"She WAS going to school in Atlanta," corrected Archer gently. "When she graduated, she went back to where you grew up."  
  
"No," Trip choked. He stared at Archer in dismay. "No."  
  
The captain placed his hands on Trip's knees. "I'm so sorry, Trip."  
  
The engineer shoved Archer away then stood and hovered over him. "You're lying to me! This is all some kind of game, isn't it? Another way to hurt me, to make me do as I'm told!"  
  
Archer struggled to his feet. "No, Trip." He grabbed the commander's upper arms. "You've got to believe me, this is no game."  
  
Trip pulled away from the captain's grip. He desperately searched his memory for any hint that what this stranger was telling him was the truth.  
  
A sharp pain lanced through his head and he put his fists against his temples. "Sonofabitch," he gasped. He heard Archer calling for someone on the comm. system then he felt the strong hands on his arms again. Trip tried to wrench away but the grip was firm and unrelenting.  
  
In his mind's eye, he could see Lizzie so clearly. "She's not dead," he muttered. "She's in Georgia going to school." He could feel his legs shaking and his vision started to darken. The pain raged making him feel suddenly sick to his stomach. She couldn't be dead, he repeated over and over, it was all just a trick.  
  
Then Trip felt something cold on his neck and the pain faded from existence, leaving only a cold, dark fear that he'd heard the truth about Lizzie. The strong hands pulled him into a fierce embrace just as the tears threatened to fall.  
  
  
  
CONTINUED  
  



	2. Chapter Two

  
  
PART TWO  
  
  
  
Jon held Trip tight as the younger man fought for control. "It's okay, Trip," he soothed gently.  
  
"I gave him something for the pain, Captain," said Phlox still holding the hypo-spray in his hand. "Dr. Kavoc told me about his headaches."  
  
"Thanks, Doc," replied Jon.  
  
"Would you like me to stay?"  
  
Jon shook his head. "I think I've got him."  
  
"Very well. Call me if you need anything."  
  
Phlox slipped quietly out of the room leaving Jon with his friend. He hadn't been there for Trip the first time the engineer had heard about his sister so it felt so right to be able to comfort the younger man now.  
  
As the struggles subsided, Jon guided Trip back to his bunk and sat him down. He stepped into the bathroom and soaked a washcloth in cold water then returned to kneel in front of him. Gently, he touched the cloth to his friend's face. Trip lifted his eyes to meet Jon's and in them the captain saw sudden confusion. He smiled gently and handed Trip the washcloth then moved to sit beside him.  
  
"I'm sorry, Captain," said Trip as he pressed the cold cloth to his face.  
  
"For what?"  
  
"For falling apart on you like that," Trip replied. "Not very becoming of an officer, was it?"  
  
"You're more than just an officer to me, Trip. You know that."  
  
Trip looked at Jon. "I don't know that, sir. The lieutenant told me we were close friends but, but I don't remember." He stood up and threw the washcloth aside. "I've lost ten years of my life! Ten years! And now I've lost my baby sister!" He threw up his hands in frustration.  
  
Jon stood and moved to stand in front of Trip. "Hey," he said as he put his hands on his friend's shoulders. "You're not alone in this. You may not remember me or the crew, but we certainly remember you. We'll get you through this, I promise. Okay?"  
  
Trip held Jon's eyes for a long moment then a tiny smile crossed his lips. "I do feel like I can trust you, Cap'n," he said.  
  
"What did you call me?" Jon asked in surprise.  
  
The commander's smile disappeared. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean any disrespect," he stammered.  
  
Jon squeezed Trip's shoulders and smiled. "No, no, it's alright, Trip. You used to call me that all the time. Really, it's alright." Then Jon's smile faded and he dropped his hands from Trip's shoulders. He watched the younger man turn from him to look back at his sister's picture. Jon had ten years of friendship, but for Trip, there was nothing. Their relationship simply didn't exist for him.  
  
Jon cleared his throat. "I'd like you to see Dr. Phlox, Trip and then we can take you down to engineering, see what you remember."  
  
Trip's eyes remained on his sister. "I really don't need to see the doctor, sir."  
  
"I won't make it an order but I'd really like you to, Trip."  
  
The engineer looked back at Jon and searched his face for a long moment. Then he nodded reluctantly and turned back to Lizzie's picture.  
  
"I'll wait outside until you're ready, okay?" Jon offered gently.  
  
"Aye, sir."  
  
The captain slipped out of the room and closed the door. He leaned back against the wall and shut his eyes.  
  
"Captain, is everything alright?"  
  
Jon opened his eyes quickly to see T'Pol standing before him. Not trusting his voice, he merely nodded at her.  
  
"How is the commander?"  
  
"I told him about his sister and the attack on Earth," Jon replied steadily. "He's just taking a few minutes before we go to sickbay."  
  
"I take it he had no memories of the events?" asked T'Pol. She clasped her hands at the small of her back.  
  
Jon shook his head. "None," he replied. "They took ten years from him, T'Pol. Ten years."  
  
"They took ten years from you as well, Captain."  
  
Jon looked at his first officer with startled surprise.  
  
T'Pol straightened her posture. "I would recommend that you leave Lieutenant Hess in command of engineering until it can be ascertained exactly what Commander Tucker remembers."  
  
"I agree," Jon replied.  
  
"Commander Shran and Dr. Kavoc would like to depart right away. Would you like me to see them to the airlock?"  
  
Before Jon could reply, Trip's door slid open and the younger man stepped into the corridor.  
  
  
  
T'Pol met the commander's gaze evenly, noting the slight puffiness around Tucker's eyes. She knew he had no doubt experienced an emotional breakdown, a very human response to the news he had just received from Archer. She tipped her head in greeting.  
  
"Sub-commander," said Tucker crisply.  
  
"The Andorians would like to get underway, Trip. I imagine you'd like to say goodbye?"  
  
Tucker nodded. "Yes, sir. I would," he replied.  
  
As the three officers walked down the corridor, T'Pol watched in her peripheral vision how Tucker looked around, his expression one of wonder and awe. She had to remind herself that for the engineer, he was seeing Enterprise for the first time.  
  
The knowledge that he remembered nothing had been quite unsettling for her. She had grown close to Tucker through their neuro-pressure sessions and had discovered him to be an intelligent, compassionate, gentle, and very kind human being. He had quite simply become her closest confidant on the ship and she had come to treasure that relationship. She had even more recently begun to consider seeking more intimacy with him. T'Pol's gaze fell to her feet as it again struck her that her relationship with Tucker was gone, wiped away with all his other memories.  
  
Shran and Kavoc were waiting at the airlock with Dr. Phlox when T'Pol and her two companions arrived.  
  
"Well, Captain," began Shran. "Keep your pink skin out of trouble."  
  
Archer smiled in response.  
  
"And good luck with your mission," the Andorian added. "If I weren't under orders to return to Andoria, I would gladly fight at your side. I doubt you believe that but it's the truth."  
  
"I do believe that, Shran," replied Archer. He extended his hand. "Thank you." He glanced at Tucker then back to the Andorian. "For everything."  
  
Shran nodded and took the captain's proffered hand then moved in front of Tucker. "Commander Tucker," he said with a hint of fondness. "I wish you luck in your journey."  
  
"Are you sure you have to leave so soon?" Tucker asked as he took Shran's hand.  
  
"I'm afraid so," replied the commander. He squinted his eyes. "You'll be fine, Mr. Tucker. You're home now."  
  
Tucker shifted on his feet then gave a small, sideways smile. "I'll try to remember that."  
  
T'Pol met Shran's gaze and nodded her head. "Commander."  
  
"Sub-commander," replied Shran. He then stepped back toward the airlock door as Dr. Kavoc said his goodbyes then both men disappeared from view as the door slid shut. T'Pol moved to the control panel and disengaged the docking clamps, then watched the monitor as the Andorian ship departed. She turned back to her three companions.  
  
"I guess I should introduce myself, Commander," said the Denobulan. "I'm Dr. Phlox."  
  
"Nice to meet you, Doc," replied Tucker. "I guess you want to take a look at me, huh?"  
  
"Only if you're ready."  
  
Tucker inhaled a breath. "Well I doubt I'll get to go to engineering without getting the once over, so I guess now is as good a time as any."  
  
Phlox smiled warmly. "Then shall we?"  
  
T'Pol walked beside the captain just behind Phlox and Tucker as they made their way to sickbay. She could tell by his posture and his expression that the captain was confused by the recent events. If she found Tucker's amnesia disconcerting, she could only imagine how Archer felt.  
  
She had at first been concerned by the close friendship between captain and commander, as had the High Command, but Archer had always been able to make the hard decisions whenever Tucker was involved, so T'Pol had remained quiet. Their friendship had never threatened the safety of the ship. As her own relationship with the two men grew, her respect for both men had grown as well. She had realized how difficult it was for them, knowing that any day, any moment, one of them would possibly have to make a life- ending decision.  
  
Just as Archer had, she reminded herself, when they'd abandoned their search after Tucker's shuttle went missing.  
  
She snapped out of her reverie as the group arrived at sickbay.  
  
"Have a seat, Commander," directed Phlox.  
  
T'Pol and Archer moved aside as Tucker hopped up onto a bio bed.  
  
Phlox picked up a medical scanner from the counter then moved back to Tucker's side. "Please remove your uniform to the waist. Dr. Kavoc said that some of your wounds were still healing. I'll need to treat them with an antiseptic salve."  
  
Tucker hesitated and looked quickly over to Archer.  
  
"You can trust the doctor, Trip," the captain said gently.  
  
T'Pol quickly noted that a bond was again forming between the two men and an unfamiliar warmth coursed through her suddenly, a feeling she was oddly unable to identify.  
  
Tucker removed his uniform and undershirts and T'Pol had to quickly suppress a gasp. His upper torso was covered with dark bruises and scabbed- over wounds, his abdomen streaked with ugly elongated burns.  
  
"Trip," Archer whispered.  
  
Tucker looked at Archer again with an almost apologetic expression. "They don't hurt that bad anymore, sir," he said quietly.  
  
"What exactly do you remember from your, uh, ordeal, Commander?" asked Phlox as he ran his medical scanner over Tucker's body.  
  
"I don't really remember much, Doc, except the pain. I've never hurt like that before. Well, at least I don't remember hurting like that before." The engineer shifted uneasily on the bed. "I remember voices telling me to- ---." He stopped and squeezed his eyes shut. "Ah, damn it," he cursed softly.  
  
Archer moved instantly to Tucker's side and placed a hand on the engineer's shoulder. "Easy, Trip," he soothed.  
  
"Just breathe through it, Commander," coaxed Phlox. "Deep breaths, that's right."  
  
T'Pol could see Tucker's body slowly relax. She stepped closer but still remained at a comfortable distance from the bio-bed.  
  
"I can't remember, Doc," said Tucker in exasperation. "It's like they don't want me to."  
  
"Your assumption is no doubt correct, Commander," offered T'Pol.  
  
Phlox lifted the medical scanner again and held it near Tucker's head. "Do these headaches only occur when you try to recall past events?"  
  
Tucker nodded. "During the day, yeah."  
  
Phlox tucked his chin. "What do you mean?"  
  
"They're worse at night. I wake up sick to my stomach from the pain," Tucker admitted. "I guess my brain is working overtime when I'm sleeping."  
  
"Ah yes, the unconscious mind," said Phlox. He looked over at T'Pol. "Would neuro-pressure help?" he asked.  
  
"Perhaps," replied T'Pol.  
  
"What the hell's neuro-pressure?" asked Tucker with a frown.  
  
Phlox chortled good-naturedly. "I'll let the sub-commander explain," he chirped.  
  
T'Pol lifted a brow at the Denobulan doctor.  
  
  
  
"Water polo, sir?"  
  
Jon chuckled and nodded. "May I ask what's wrong with water polo, Commander?" he asked teasingly.  
  
Trip shrugged then looked across the table at T'Pol. "Have you ever watched water polo?"  
  
"No."  
  
Trip looked apologetic. "I don't know, sir. I'm a football man myself but then, I guess you already knew that." He drank down the last of his iced tea. "Did I like water polo---well, before?"  
  
"No, not really," Jon replied with a smile. He lifted the pitcher of tea and refilled the engineer's glass. "But you put up with it because I liked it."  
  
Trip looked to T'Pol again. "Did I?" he asked.  
  
T'Pol nodded. "Yes, I believe you did, Commander," she replied.  
  
"Huh," grunted the engineer. He looked down at his plate. "Well then, water polo it is, Cap'n."  
  
Jon nodded his approval then watched as Trip concentrated on his prime rib. He'd been back two weeks and Jon still marveled at how easily Trip had fallen back into his easy friendships. In a way, having the naïve Trip around again had almost eased the constant tension Jon felt in recent months. Almost.  
  
He looked down at his own plate and tried to suppress a smile. In his younger years, Trip had been so awkward and unsure of himself at a personal level. He'd always been confident in and fiercely passionate about his professional abilities, but he'd been rather inept socially. To see him so innocent and vulnerable again was both heart-warming and heart wrenching. Like everyone else who knew him, Jon had been instantly drawn to the younger man. And no matter how hard Jon tried to fight it, Trip had yet again managed to endear himself to the captain.  
  
"Well," said Trip as he pushed away from the table. "Got to get back to engineering." He stood up. "1900 hours in your ready room, Cap'n?"  
  
Jon shook his head. "How about my quarters tonight?"  
  
Trip hesitated briefly then nodded. "I'll see you then." He glanced at T'Pol. "Same time for our session?"  
  
"Of course, Commander."  
  
The engineer smiled at both of them then left the captain's dining room.  
  
Jon sighed.  
  
"Is there something wrong, Captain?" asked T'Pol.  
  
"What? Oh, nothing."  
  
"Are you certain?"  
  
Jon looked askance at his first officer. "Just worried about Trip."  
  
"I understand your concern, Captain, however, Commander Tucker is adjusting quite well given his current circumstances."  
  
"He does seem more comfortable with the crew."  
  
"His ability to make friends is indeed uncanny."  
  
"How are you two getting along? He wasn't exactly a fan of the Vulcans ten years ago."  
  
"He has been quite accepting of me actually. I found it somewhat puzzling until I realized that he was missing a decade of----." She stopped and looked suddenly uncomfortable.  
  
"Of?" prompted Jon.  
  
T'Pol wiped her mouth with her napkin then set it next to her plate. "Of other influences, Captain," she finished.  
  
"My influence specifically, is that right Sub-Commander?"  
  
T'Pol looked at him. "That isn't what I said, Captain."  
  
Jon sat back in his chair and eyed his first officer. "I think that's what you meant, though, T'Pol," he said. "But Trip didn't like the Vulcans when we first met. No one had any influence over him, especially me. He came to his own conclusions. And now he doesn't remember the majority of our battles to get the Warp Five program up and running." He sat forward and placed his forearms on the table. "He's probably more accepting of you now because you're helping him, something the Vulcans he remembers never did."  
  
"Perhaps, but the commander also does not remember your anger over your father. It is my experience that humans tend to be somewhat blind in their prejudices when it involves those they consider important in their lives."  
  
"Not in this case."  
  
T'Pol stood. "I apologize if I've offended you, Captain. That was not my intent. And I am willing to concede that my assessment may be incorrect."  
  
Jon sighed then smiled slightly. "Maybe you are right in your assessment--- maybe. Trip was just a kid back then. Maybe I did influence him a bit."  
  
T'Pol tipped her head slightly in acknowledgement. "I will be in engineering. Good night, Captain," she said.  
  
"Good night, T'Pol."  
  
  
  
CONTINUED  
  



	3. Chapter Three

  
  
PART THREE  
  
  
  
Jon looked past Trip to gaze out at the derelict ship as it drifted lifelessly. He watched as the engineer effortlessly maneuvered the shuttle pod to the docking port then smiled to himself as a light flashed confirming a seal.  
  
"I think we're here, sir," said Trip with a touch of relief in his voice.  
  
"Nice job," said Jon from the back of the 'pod.  
  
The engineer swiveled around in his chair to look at his commanding officer. "Thanks. I guess we can add piloting a shuttle to the list of things I remember."  
  
Jon stood and picked up his EV helmet. "You still having doubts? I thought you agreed that you deserved the title of Chief Engineer again."  
  
Trip lifted his helmet from the chair behind him. "I do but there's still a part of me that wonders if I'm really qualified."  
  
Jon smiled warmly. "I think you proved yourself during our ruse with Degra. If you hadn't figured out how those vortexes worked, the whole deception would've failed. Everyone on board was impressed---including your captain."  
  
Trip looked at him askance then grinned and nodded.  
  
Jon put on the heavy helmet then let Trip snap the closures down. He hit his comm. "Now let's see what's over there."  
  
The captain assisted Trip with his helmet then they both climbed up through the airlock to the other vessel. They'd picked up the abandoned ship just hours before on their sensors then upon discovering it was Xindi, Jon had quickly made the decision to investigate. The coordinates were only a light year off their course for Azati Prime.  
  
"This ship looks ancient," said Trip as he wandered around the tiny room into which they'd climbed. "None of these systems look to be operational." He turned to look at Jon. "Did T'Pol pick up any residual energy readings?"  
  
Jon shook his head. "No. This ship must've been floating out here for years. I was hoping there was still information in their database, though. Maybe some history on the Xindi we could use."  
  
"Ah, so you didn't ask me along just for my company then," replied Trip with a wide grin.  
  
Jon laughed. "Just needed your mind, Commander," he teased.  
  
Trip turned back and flipped open a control panel. Jon moved to stand beside him, watching as the engineer's fingers moved deftly through all the complex circuitry. He looked at Trip's face illuminated softly by the helmet's internal lights and wondered what was flying through his razor- sharp mind.  
  
"Huh," grunted the engineer.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Looks like there's been a lot of re-routing done here."  
  
Jon looked back at the panel. "Can you tell why?"  
  
Trip shook his head. "Some of these circuits appear to be newer than the others, Cap'n."  
  
"Maybe they came back to try to get it operational again. There must be a lot of valuable technology on board."  
  
"I don't know, sir," Trip said with trepidation. "Something doesn't feel right."  
  
Jon looked back at the younger man. "Okay, Trip. We'll get out of here just as soon as we download the data." He turned. "Is there an interface in here?"  
  
Trip nodded. "Yeah," he replied then he shut the panel and moved to a keyboard and display monitor. "Now let's see if this thing has any power."  
  
Jon fingered his comm. on his EV suit. "Archer to Enterprise."  
  
"Go ahead, sir," Hoshi replied.  
  
"We're about to download the database. Standby."  
  
Jon watched as Trip flipped a switch and the monitor blinked to life.  
  
"What the hell?" gasped the engineer.  
  
"What is it?" asked the captain.  
  
"I think I just started a countdown, Cap'n."  
  
"A countdown?"  
  
Trip's fingers moved over the keys. "I can't shut it down. I think you'd better get Enterprise out of here!"  
  
Without hesitation, Jon hit his comm. again. "This is Archer. T'Pol get the hell out of here!"  
  
"Captain?"  
  
"You heard me! We've triggered some sort of self-destruct! It's a trap, Sub-Commander, now get the ship out of here!" ordered Jon. He ended the transmission then looked at Trip. "Let's get to the shuttle."  
  
Trip nodded and they both knelt beside the hatch. Jon tried to open it but to no avail.  
  
"Damn it," cursed Trip. "Use your phase pistol, sir. It might break the seal." He stood. "I'll see what I can do to stop the countdown."  
  
Jon pulled out his phase pistol and set it on the kill setting. The moment he depressed the trigger, fire filled the space around him and he fell backwards. He shook his head and sat up. Flames licked at his boots from the burning hatch. He looked up to see Trip still busy at the keyboard.  
  
"Are you alright, Cap'n?" the commander shouted.  
  
Jon nodded and stood. "Yeah. Is there anything you can do?"  
  
"I'm not sure. From what I can tell, we've probably got less than a minute," Trip replied hurriedly. He moved quickly back to the wall panel and opened the door.  
  
Jon watched almost mesmerized as sparks flew from different panels and flames crawled life-like up the walls. He moved quickly to Trip's side. Although from his angle he couldn't see inside the panel, Jon could see the sparks and flames in the reflection of Trip's face shield. The engineer's face shined with sweat and Jon could see blood dripping from where he had his teeth clamped hard on his lower lip.  
  
The captain waited and watched, knowing they only had seconds.  
  
Trip made one final violent tug then turned and threw himself to the floor, taking Jon with him. They lay side by side, their eyes locked, as time slowed to a standstill.  
  
"Cap'n, I----," Trip began then the panel on which he'd been working exploded, showering the two men with sparks.  
  
Jon squeezed his eyes tightly shut, thankful that at least he would die with his friend at his side.  
  
  
  
Trip opened his eyes and looked around. Sparks still rained down over them, but the ship hadn't exploded. He sat up then expelled a sigh of relief as the man beside him moved.  
  
"You did it!" said Archer as he sat up beside the engineer.  
  
Trip stood and stepped quickly to the keyboard and monitor. He smiled. The countdown had stopped. He turned around and smiled at the captain who still sat on the floor then he reached out to pull the older man to his feet.  
  
"Trip, your hand," gasped Archer. He pushed himself up then stood, taking Trip's hand carefully in his own. "You're burned." He reached for the engineer's other hand then frowned when he saw that it was burned as well.  
  
"Got a little toasty working on those circuits," Trip hissed through gritted teeth. "It's nothing, Cap'n. The suit took most of the heat."  
  
"Your gloves are melted to your hands, Trip. You've got to be in pain."  
  
Trip grimaced as Archer jostled him slightly. "It's okay," he replied as he bit down on his lower lip. He tasted blood.  
  
Archer's brows furrowed. "We need to get you to Phlox. These look bad."  
  
The engineer looked beyond Archer to the hatch. "That may not be so easy." He motioned with his head. "That hatch is welded shut. I'm not sure our phase pistols will be of much use."  
  
Archer gently released Trip's hands then turned and knelt at the hatch. "You're right. We're going to need a plasma torch." He hit his comm. button and hailed Enterprise.  
  
Trip knelt beside him, his jaw set against the increasing pain radiating from his hands.  
  
"T'Pol. Captain, are you alright?"  
  
"We're okay, Trip managed to shut down the destruct sequence, but we could use some help getting out of here."  
  
"We're returning to your location now, Captain. I'll send over a team right away."  
  
"Make it fast, Sub-commander. Trip's been hurt."  
  
"Understood."  
  
Archer released the button. "I wonder if it's even worth our time to see if there's any information in their database."  
  
Trip stood and moved back to the keyboard. He tapped a key gingerly then cursed softly.  
  
"Here, let me," offered Archer as he appeared at Trip's elbow. The captain hit the keys and the monitor flickered then died out. "Just as I thought," he muttered.  
  
"A pretty ingenious trap, if you think about it," offered the engineer. "Have the Xindi tried this before?"  
  
Archer shook his head. "No, but we've never been so close to where they're building the weapon either. Makes me wonder what else we'll come across."  
  
Trip tried to suppress a gasp as the burning in his hands increased. He felt slightly nauseous from the pain.  
  
"Hey," said Archer gently. "Let's sit you down."  
  
Trip looked at the captain, noting the deep concern in his eyes. He allowed Archer to guide him to a scorched wall then let the captain lower him carefully to the floor.  
  
Archer sat next to him, his shoulder pressed to Trip's. "We'll have you to Phlox in no time."  
  
Trip propped his hands up on his knees. "It's not so bad, Cap'n."  
  
Archer shook his head. "You are so stubborn," he teased.  
  
"No I'm not."  
  
"Even your mother agrees. She always told me, Jonathan, you'll never find a more stubborn individual than my son."  
  
Trip started slightly. "You know my mother?"  
  
"Of course I do. We've been friends for---." Archer stopped suddenly then sighed. "I'm sorry, Trip. Sometimes I just forget that you don't remember everything like I do."  
  
"I wish I could, Cap'n."  
  
Archer turned his head and smiled. "Give it time," he said gently.  
  
Trip leaned his head back in his helmet. "Didn't I make any personal logs?"  
  
"You're more the type for pictures," replied the captain. "Phlox and I felt it best to keep your logs and photo albums inaccessible until he could figure out how to help with the headaches. He felt it would be too much for you right now."  
  
"I guess I can understand that," agreed Trip reluctantly. He shivered.  
  
"Are you cold?"  
  
"Yeah, a little."  
  
Archer leaned over him. "Let me adjust the suit's internal controls, see if we can warm you up." He pushed some buttons. "Better?"  
  
Trip shivered again. "Still kind of cold."  
  
Archer fixed his eyes on Trip's as he depressed his comm. "Archer to T'Pol."  
  
"Go ahead."  
  
"How long before you have us out of here?"  
  
"Ensign Mayweather and an engineering team have just docked with your shuttle, Captain. Is there a problem?"  
  
"Just get us out of here, Sub-commander. And have Dr. Phlox waiting in the launch bay."  
  
"Understood."  
  
Trip felt his body trembling. "Can't this thing get any warmer?" he asked.  
  
Archer rolled onto his knees at Trip's side. "I've got it as high as it'll go, Trip."  
  
The commander nodded and closed his eyes.  
  
"So how are your sessions going with T'Pol?" asked Archer.  
  
"Okay, I guess. They've really helped me sleep. She's a good lady, Cap'n. I've never been around a Vulcan like her before. I like her, I like her a lot." There was no reply so Trip opened his eyes to find an odd expression on the captain's face. "Something wrong?"  
  
"No, no," Archer replied, quickly hiding a smile. "Nothing's wrong. I'm glad you two are getting along."  
  
Both men turned their heads when the hatch was pushed open and Travis' concerned face appeared.  
  
  
  
"I assure you, Captain. Commander Tucker will be just fine," insisted Dr. Phlox.  
  
"I just want to see him, Phlox."  
  
"I'll call you when he awakens."  
  
Archer's brows furrowed. "You mean he's unconscious?"  
  
"I sedated him, Captain. The dermal-regenerating process is a profoundly uncomfortable one. I thought it best if he slept through it."  
  
"Then he's going to be alright."  
  
Phlox pursed his lips. "Yes, his burns were severe but the process went quite smoothly. He'll be back to work in a day or so."  
  
Archer expelled a long breath and Phlox could see the captain's tension evaporate before his eyes.  
  
"Can I see him?"  
  
Phlox sighed. "Alright," he replied then he led the captain behind a drawn curtain to where the commander lay sleeping, his bandaged hands resting across his stomach.  
  
Archer gazed down at the peaceful man without uttering a word.  
  
"How are you doing, Captain?" asked Phlox.  
  
Archer didn't look up. "I'm fine. I wasn't hurt."  
  
"That's not what I meant."  
  
The captain rested his hand on Trip's shoulder.  
  
"This can't be easy for you," Phlox continued.  
  
Archer smiled sadly. "You want to hear something ridiculous? At first, I thought Trip's amnesia was a blessing in a way. If he couldn't remember all the years we shared then I thought it would some how make it easier for me to keep my distance from him. You know, in case---well, in case something happened." The captain snorted softly. "The only problem was--- I still remember."  
  
Phlox smiled his understanding.  
  
"I tried not to let him in again, Phlox. But it was impossible."  
  
"Sometimes it's simply fate, Captain. You and Commander Tucker were supposed to be friends."  
  
Archer removed his hand from Trip's shoulder then gently patted his arm. "I guess so," he replied with affection. He looked up at the doctor. "Let me know when he's awake?"  
  
"Of course, Captain."  
  
  
  
CONTINUED  
  



	4. Chapter Four

  
  
PART FOUR  
  
  
  
"You seem troubled this evening," said T'Pol as she pressed her fingertips into Tucker's shoulders. "Is there something you'd like to discuss?"  
  
Tucker opened his eyes then shook his head.  
  
"Are your hands bothering you?"  
  
Again, the commander shook his head. T'Pol glanced down at the bandages that were still wrapped protectively around Tucker's burned hands. She noticed his fingers flexing where they lay in his lap then she looked up again at him with lifted brows.  
  
Tucker sighed. "Alright," he relented quietly. "One of my crew said something today, mentioned someone, actually."  
  
"Someone?"  
  
"Yeah. Sim."  
  
T'Pol inhaled quickly. "Sim?" she asked.  
  
The commander nodded then shifted on his knees. "Who was he?"  
  
"This crewman didn't tell you?"  
  
Tucker shook his head. "But he looked kind of uncomfortable, like he'd let something slip."  
  
T'Pol slid her hands from Tucker's shoulders then let them settle in her lap. She turned her eyes to the candle that burned to her right.  
  
"T'Pol?" prompted Tucker.  
  
"Sim was your clone, Commander," replied the sub-commander. She looked back at the man who sat knee to knee with her. "You were fatally injured in an accident. Dr. Phlox created Sim in order to save you."  
  
Tucker looked suddenly wary. "Am I Sim then?"  
  
"No," replied T'Pol. "But you carry a part of him with you."  
  
"I don't understand."  
  
"Dr. Phlox created Sim then harvested his brain tissue to save your life."  
  
Tucker stood. "He did what?" he asked incredulously as he looked down at her. He swallowed. "What---what happened to him, T'Pol? Where is he now?"  
  
T'Pol hesitated, a feeling of trepidation rising in her stomach. "He is dead, Commander."  
  
Tucker inhaled sharply then took a step backwards. "Dead," he whispered. "Because of me?"  
  
The Vulcan stood. "No, not because of you, but because of this mission."  
  
"So Phlox chose my life over Sim's?"  
  
"Captain Archer felt that---," T'Pol began.  
  
"The cap'n agreed to this?" asked Tucker. He took another step back and shook his head. "I never wanted anyone to die for me, T'Pol."  
  
"I'm aware of that, Commander. Please let me explain---."  
  
"What's there to explain? Someone died so that I could live, plain and simple. Isn't that right? And I can't even remember who he was." Tucker ran a hand back through his hair. "I can't remember anything because I was too weak to resist those bastards!" His bandaged hands balled into fists at his sides. "If I'd only been stronger, maybe---."  
  
"You are not weak, Commander."  
  
"But I am, T'Pol," replied Tucker. He stopped suddenly then he squeezed his eyes shut. He brought his fingers up to massage his temples.  
  
T'Pol stepped toward him and took his arms. "Commander?"  
  
Tucker pulled away from her. "I can't even remember who he was," he repeated. "Damn it," he cursed and he bit his lip.  
  
"Take deep breaths," urged T'Pol as she watched his face.  
  
Tucker gasped then he doubled over and dropped to his knees.  
  
T'Pol knelt beside him then quickly stood and moved to her comm. panel. "T'Pol to Dr. Phlox."  
  
"Yes, go ahead."  
  
"I have a medical emergency in my quarters, Doctor. It's Commander Tucker."  
  
"I'm on my way."  
  
T'Pol turned back to her companion who still was in obvious pain. She moved to his side then dropped to her knees. Gently, she coaxed him to lie down and then cushioned his head in her lap.  
  
"I can't even remember him, T'Pol," Tucker managed. "Why was I so weak?"  
  
Unsure of what to do to comfort the stricken commander, T'Pol simply brushed her hand lightly over his hair and waited for the doctor to arrive.  
  
  
  
Trip blinked then he opened his eyes to see the concerned face of Dr. Phlox looking down at him. He shifted then realized his head was being cradled in someone's lap.  
  
T'Pol.  
  
Trip pushed himself up to a sitting position then wavered slightly.  
  
"How are you feeling, Commander?" asked Phlox.  
  
"The pain's gone."  
  
"Ah, good," replied the doctor. "Have you ever had an attack this severe before?"  
  
Trip shook his head. "No," he replied then he stood. "I'm fine now, Doc."  
  
"Thank you for getting here so quickly, Doctor," T'Pol said as she rose to her feet.  
  
"If I may ask, what triggered this attack?"  
  
"I was just trying to remember someone," replied Trip briskly.  
  
T'Pol looked up at him. "And he was wondering if he could have resisted the torture," she added.  
  
"Ah," replied Phlox. "As I've told you before, there was nothing you could have done, Commander. I've read all of Dr. Kavoc's reports. After the Andorians retrieved you, Kavoc discovered your system was flooded with a variety of chemicals, some psychotropic in nature, others unidentifiable. With the use of these drugs in conjunction with the physical abuse, you simply did not stand a chance against them."  
  
"Maybe," Trip said dejectedly. He reached for his shirt which hung over T'Pol's chair and pulled it on. "I'm kinda tired, Sub-commander. Mind if we call it a night?"  
  
"We've only completed one posture," replied T'Pol. "You may have trouble sleeping, Commander. I recommend at least---."  
  
Trip put his hand up to stop her. "Thanks, T'Pol, really. I just need to be by myself for a while."  
  
T'Pol held his eyes for a long moment, an odd mixture of emotions swirling in their darkness, then relented with a nod of her head.  
  
Trip smiled weakly then left the Vulcan with a very confused looking Denobulan.  
  
  
  
Malcolm Reed yawned unceremoniously as he entered the gym then he stopped. "Commander?"  
  
Trip looked over at him from the treadmill on which he was running. "Evening, Lieutenant," he replied breathlessly.  
  
The armory officer moved to the row of hand weights that lined one side of the gym. "You're up awfully late, sir."  
  
"Wasn't tired," replied the engineer. He took one corner of the towel that rested around his neck and wiped his forehead.  
  
Malcolm picked up two weights, one in each hand, and began light bicep curls. As he warmed up his muscles, he watched the commander in his peripheral vision. His friend appeared to be running a marathon, and a fast one at that, Malcolm decided.  
  
Finally, after several moments at a torrid pace, Trip hit the controls and slowed slightly to a nice jog. He wiped his face again with his towel.  
  
"Are you alright?" asked Malcolm.  
  
Trip nodded. "Fine," he replied curtly.  
  
Malcolm put down his weights and moved to the front of the treadmill. "If you don't mind my saying, Commander, you don't seem fine."  
  
The engineer looked up. "I do mind, Lieutenant."  
  
Malcolm nodded apologetically and took a step backwards. "All right, sir," he said as he turned.  
  
"Hey, wait. I'm sorry, Malcolm," sighed Trip. He hit the button and the treadmill stopped. Malcolm watched as he leaned heavily on the display panel then wiped his face again.  
  
The lieutenant stepped forward. "Maybe I can help," he offered gently.  
  
Trip smiled weakly and shook his head. "I doubt anyone can," he replied.  
  
"Commander?"  
  
Trip sighed again. "What do you know about Sim, Malcolm?"  
  
The armory officer swallowed. "Sim? What do you want to know?"  
  
"Tell me about him."  
  
Malcolm shrugged. "I really didn't spend too much time with him. I know he saved your life, though."  
  
"Was it by choice?" Trip asked, his eyes piercing Malcolm's.  
  
"That's how I understood it, Commander. What's this all about?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"You don't know?" asked Malcolm.  
  
Trip moved to a bench and sat down. Malcolm hesitated then followed him, sitting down beside him. He waited silently, watching as the commander stared at his bandaged hands.  
  
"The captain didn't make him do it, did he?" Trip asked finally, his voice so quiet Malcolm had to strain to hear him.  
  
Malcolm paused. He'd often wondered that himself over the past few weeks, but had never had the courage to ask. Archer had surprised him with some of his actions in the Expanse and Malcolm had finally decided it was best if he didn't know exactly what had happened with Sim.  
  
"Malcolm?"  
  
The lieutenant sighed. "You know him better than I do, Commander," he replied lamely.  
  
"No, I don't," said Trip. "I've only known him for a few weeks, Malcolm. I don't remember him or our friendship." He stood and began to pace, his frustration palpable. "I need to know what happened."  
  
Malcolm stood. "Why?  
  
"Why?" repeated Trip, his voice filled with surprise. "Because a life was created to save mine, Malcolm. A life that was just as valuable as mine. If I was at death's door, why did Phlox even perform an operation? Why didn't he just let me die?"  
  
The lieutenant reached out and took Trip's arm, staying him. "You don't know the whole story, Trip," he replied gently. "Sim's lifespan was only 15 days."  
  
"That still doesn't mean those 15 days weren't important, Malcolm. And did Phlox even try to see if he could live longer or was he just spare parts to him?"  
  
"That isn't fair to Phlox, Trip."  
  
"Maybe not, but you didn't answer my question."  
  
"From what I gathered, there was only a minute chance he could live a longer life."  
  
"But there was a chance?"  
  
Malcolm nodded. "I don't know all the facts, though."  
  
"Probably because the captain and the good doctor didn't want you to know."  
  
"They're not monsters, Trip."  
  
The commander looked at his feet and sighed. "I'm sorry," he replied. "Did Sim at least get to experience his life, or was he locked away in sickbay?"  
  
"I'd say he experienced his life. In fact, he saved the ship just like you would've done."  
  
Trip's head snapped up and he locked eyes with Malcolm's. "So he had my knowledge?"  
  
Malcolm hesitated and looked away.  
  
"Did he have my knowledge, Lieutenant?" pressed Trip.  
  
The armory officer nodded. "Yes."  
  
Trip turned on his heel and laughed without mirth. "Oh, this is beautiful," he spat, then he turned back to Malcolm, his face suddenly pleading. "Why did Phlox and the captain do it, Malcolm? I'm not worth what Sim sacrificed."  
  
"Trip, there's so much you don't remember," Malcolm began gently.  
  
The engineer squeezed his eyes shut and brought his fingers up to his temples. "I know that," he replied. "Believe me, I know that." Then he gasped.  
  
"I'll get the doctor." Malcolm turned but stopped when a hand grabbed his arm.  
  
Trip shook his head. "I'm fine. Just give me a minute."  
  
Malcolm took his friend's elbow and led him back to the bench where they both sat down. After a moment, Trip dropped his hands back into his lap and his shoulders sagged. He shook his head, but remained silent.  
  
"What would you do," Malcolm began gently. "If your brother was fighting for his life and his doctor told you the only chance to save him was to create a clone?"  
  
Trip turned his head and met Malcolm's eyes.  
  
"Then when this clone was created, it turned out he had all your brother's memories and mannerisms," the lieutenant continued. "Would you accept the clone because he was a healthy version of your brother, or would you ask the doctor to perform the operation?"  
  
"He's my brother, Malcolm," replied Trip. "There could never be a replacement for him. But that isn't the same thing."  
  
Malcolm held Trip's eyes. "Isn't it?" he asked quietly.  
  
  
  
Jon leaned forward, his hands bracing his weight against the situation room display table. "There's a monitoring station on this planetoid," he said pointing to a circle on the screen in front of him. "If we set off the alarms, we've lost our element of surprise and they'll know we're close to Azati Prime."  
  
T'Pol nodded. "Sensors show it is manned by a contingent of six Reptilians. I've been monitoring their communications and thus far, they have made no attempts to send out any messages."  
  
"So we're outside their detection range," said Reed, his arms crossed over his chest.  
  
"That's what it looks like," replied Jon. "T'Pol has discovered that when the planetoid rotates and the station is shadowed, their sensors are scrambled. The window is only a few minutes so there's not enough time to get a shuttle in."  
  
"Is there enough time to get Enterprise in?" asked Trip.  
  
Jon looked up at his friend.  
  
"Could we get the ship in close enough to transport a team down then still have time to get out of range before the station rotates out of the dark?"  
  
"I believe so," replied T'Pol. "The timing would have to be impeccable."  
  
Trip smiled then looked at the helmsman who stood beside him. "Travis can do impeccable, can't you, Travis?"  
  
"Yes, sir," replied the ensign.  
  
"That still doesn't solve our little problem with the monitoring sensors," interjected Reed. "We can take out the Reptilians, but we still can't get past those sensors without triggering the alarm."  
  
"Ah, but I think we can," replied Trip.  
  
Jon cocked his head and squinted at the commander. "Trip?"  
  
"We can make the sensors think they're seeing something that isn't really there. Or in this case, make them think they're seeing nothing when something IS really there."  
  
"Simple, but ingenious," stated T'Pol evenly. "And you're certain you can do this?"  
  
Trip shrugged. "I'd need to look at the scans you've taken, but yeah, I'm pretty sure I can."  
  
"All right then," said Jon. "Trip and I will transport with a team of MACOs as soon as Trip's ready."  
  
Reed cleared his throat. "I think I should accompany the commander, Captain. We shouldn't risk losing both of you."  
  
"I need you at your post, Lieutenant. If something goes wrong, I need to know you're ready at weapons. Understood?"  
  
Reed pursed his lips. "Aye, sir," he replied reluctantly.  
  
"I can lead this mission, Cap'n."  
  
Jon looked over at Trip. "You're going to have your hands full, Trip. Now how much time do you need to get ready?"  
  
"If T'Pol's willing to help," the engineer replied with a quick glance at the Vulcan at his side. "Maybe an hour?"  
  
The captain nodded. "Dismissed." He watched as his officers left the situation room.  
  
T'Pol turned to leave then stopped. "There is no logical reason why you should be on this mission, Captain. As Science Officer, I would be able to offer more support to Commander Tucker," she said.  
  
"My reason is logical to me, T'Pol."  
  
"Do you not trust that I would look out for his safety?"  
  
Jon looked at his first officer in surprise.  
  
"It is a pattern I have observed, Captain. You are very protective of Commander Tucker."  
  
"I'm protective of my entire crew, Sub-commander. You included," Jon replied firmly.  
  
T'Pol nodded. "I just want you to be aware that I would not allow any harm to come to him---if I were to lead this mission."  
  
Jon couldn't help but smile. "I know that, T'Pol." Then he sighed. "We're going in there with our phase pistols set to kill, you know." He looked down at the display of the tiny planetoid. "I remember the first time Trip ever had to kill anyone. I know what it did to him, how he reacted. Since he's the best choice for this mission, I think I'm the best choice to accompany him." He glanced up and met T'Pol's eyes. "I know I'm taking a risk, T'Pol. But right now, this is what I need to do not as his captain, but as his friend. Do you understand that?"  
  
The Vulcan tipped her head to the side. "Understood," she replied softly then she turned and entered the command center to join Trip.  
  
Jon looked back down at the planetoid. In all their time spent at Starfleet, neither man had ever discussed the possibility of taking another life. Their dreams had been of exploration, of meeting alien species, of forging new friendships. Killing had never been a part of those talks.  
  
The captain sighed sadly. They had both been too naïve thinking that there weren't species like the Xindi in the universe. He straightened his uniform then headed off the bridge to brief Major Hayes on their plans.  
  
  
  
CONTINUED  
  



	5. Chapter Five

  
  
PART FIVE  
  
  
  
Trip exhaled in relief as he suddenly found himself standing under a darkened sky with earth beneath his feet. He looked at Archer who stood next to him. To Trip's amusement, the captain looked just as relieved as he felt.  
  
Archer shook his head. "I will never get used to that," he said quietly then he pulled his phase pistol and looked around.  
  
Trip looked down at his hand scanner. "Just as we thought, sir. Our scanners are being scrambled by the same interference." He tucked the little device into his jacket pocket. "We're going in blind."  
  
Archer looked apprehensive but he nodded. "It's your show, Major," he whispered to Hayes.  
  
With the MACOs leading the way, the group of five walked quickly yet stealthily through the dark until they came upon the small station tucked against a cliff face.  
  
Hayes looked back over his shoulder at his team. "Clockwork, people," he hissed then he motioned with his hand for everyone to move forward.  
  
Hunkering down behind Archer, Trip could feel the cold grip of fear take hold of his stomach as the group moved toward the door. His mind flashed on his baby sister. He was about to come face to face with those responsible for her death.  
  
Archer glanced back at him. "You okay?" he whispered.  
  
Trip nodded.  
  
"Stay close to me, Trip."  
  
"Aye, sir."  
  
Hayes kicked in the door then the MACOs disappeared inside. Trip could see the flashes from the firefight and he held his breath. The engineer expelled that breath when Hayes' face appeared in the doorway.  
  
"The room is secure, Captain," the major stated. "But there were only four of them. The other two must be on reconnaissance. With your permission, I'll leave Freeman here with you while Kemper and I look for the others."  
  
Archer nodded. "Be careful, Major."  
  
Hayes brushed by Trip with Kemper at his side then the engineer followed Archer inside the tiny station. Trip moved to the only terminal in the room and quickly got to work on the sensors. He silently thanked Hoshi for her translation matrix, as he was able to easily read the Xindi language.  
  
"We have seven minutes, Trip," said Archer who stood at Trip's side. "How's it coming?"  
  
"Almost there, Cap'n." He punched in the final command then brought up the sensor grid. "Almost---okay, it's done."  
  
"Is it working?"  
  
Trip shrugged. "No way to test it, sir," he replied. He looked past Archer just as Freeman opened fire on an unseen assailant. He was shouting to Trip and the captain to get out then he fell hard to the floor and lay still.  
  
Archer grabbed Trip's arm and pulled him toward the door, his other hand squeezing off shot after shot with his phase pistol. Trip reached for his own pistol still holstered at his side and gripped it, pulling it free. He turned his head and aimed at the group of five Reptilians that had entered the room from a point unknown.  
  
The thought that there shouldn't have been so many was pushed from Trip's mind as Archer gasped and fell, blood quickly soaking the leg of his uniform. Trip fired at the enemy as he grabbed the collar of his captain's jacket and hauled him toward the door. A sharp pain shot through Trip's arm and he realized absently that he'd been hit.  
  
He kept firing. Trip risked a quick glance at the open door, but saw no sign of Hayes or Kemper. Knowing he wasn't going to make it out of the little building, Trip pulled Archer behind a tall metal shelving unit then crouched and fired around it's edge.  
  
"Leave me, Trip," panted Archer. "Get out of here, find Hayes."  
  
Trip shook his head, his focus still on the approaching Xindi. "No can do, sir. You'd be killed for sure. I won't leave you."  
  
"You don't have a choice, Trip. This mission is bigger than the both of us. Now get out! That's an order!"  
  
Again Trip shook his head.  
  
"You've never disobeyed a direct order, Commander!"  
  
"Probably not, but I guess there's a first time for everything, Cap'n." He looked quickly at Archer. "Can you run?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Then I'll have to carry you."  
  
"You can't carry me and keep firing at the same time," huffed the captain. "Your only chance is to get yourself out, Trip. Now go!"  
  
Trip looked back at his assailants. "No way. I can't do that."  
  
"Why?!"  
  
"Because I know we're friends! And because you cared enough about me to give up a piece of your soul for me! I figure I owe you." The commander turned on his heels, holstering his pistol in one swift move. "When I get you over my shoulder, you'll need to give us cover fire until I can get us out the door." He reached for Archer, thankful the captain didn't resist him.  
  
The engineer's arm radiated pain as he hoisted Archer over his shoulder. He adjusted the captain's weight then took a deep breath and broke cover. As Trip crossed the floor at a dead run, he could hear Archer unleashing a barrage of fire on the Xindi.  
  
Just as the two men cleared the door, Trip saw Hayes and Kemper approaching, rifles poised for battle.  
  
"There can't be any survivors, Major!" shouted Archer over the din.  
  
"Understood!" replied Hayes.  
  
Trip moved behind a large boulder then dropped Archer roughly to the ground. "I'll be right back," he huffed. He turned to head back to the fight when he felt the muzzle of a gun pressed to the small of his back.  
  
"Don't move, Human."  
  
A hand snaked to the engineer's side and removed his weapon then he heard the distinctive sound of it hitting the ground as it was tossed away.  
  
Trip looked down at Archer to see him tuck his own pistol under his jacket. He held the captain's eyes steadily, his brain working feverishly for a way out of their predicament.  
  
"Turn around," hissed the Xindi. "I want to look into your eyes when I kill you."  
  
Archer suddenly winked. "Do as the man says, Commander."  
  
Trip swallowed hard then slowly began to turn.  
  
"Now!" Archer shouted and Trip dove to his right. He hit the ground then rolled to his feet just in time to see the Reptilian fall, the captain's aim true.  
  
Trip moved to the Xindi and took his rifle then knelt at Archer's side. "You okay?" he asked.  
  
Archer slumped back against the boulder. "Yeah. Go help Hayes and Kemper."  
  
"We don't need any help, Captain," said Hayes suddenly.  
  
Trip stood and saw the major appear behind him. Hayes held his weapon in one hand while he held up Freeman with the other. Kemper stood at Freeman's other side, his arm wrapped tightly around the injured MACO's waist.  
  
"Didn't go down exactly as planned, but I'd say the mission was a success," Hayes continued. He looked up at the brightening sky. "And just in time, too."  
  
Out of nowhere, Trip suddenly felt a wave of nausea hit him and he bent, putting his hands on his knees.  
  
"Easy, Trip," soothed Archer.  
  
Trip swallowed. "I don't remember training for this," he managed.  
  
"We didn't, not in Starfleet anyway."  
  
"I killed 'em, Cap'n."  
  
"I know and I'm sorry, Trip, but what other choice did you have?'  
  
Trip took a couple deep breaths then stood straight. "Sorry, Major," he said quietly as he looked sheepishly at Hayes.  
  
The MACO smiled reassuringly. "You kept your lunch down, Commander. The first time I went into battle, I threw up all over my CO. You'll be okay."  
  
Trip nodded and tried to smile. "Our scans only detected six bio-signs," he said. "Where the hell did the others come from?"  
  
"A basement," replied Kemper. "We've checked it. There's no one else."  
  
Trip looked at the ground. "This rock must contain a magnetic property that our sensors can't penetrate." He glanced back up at the MACO. "We'd better get out in the open so Enterprise can pick up our bio-signs."  
  
"Agreed," said Hayes.  
  
The commander reached down to pull Archer up. "Come on, Cap'n," he urged. "Let's get you and Corporal Freeman here to the doc."  
  
  
  
T'Pol walked down the empty corridors toward the command center. Her mind catalogued the day's events as she moved through the solitude. After recovering the away team from the planetoid, she'd found a trans- dimensional disturbance on sensors. They had determined that the only way to get past it without losing valuable time was to go through it. Unfortunately, T'Pol did not find the planned passage all that appealing to her Vulcan senses.  
  
She entered the command center then paused in the doorway.  
  
Archer turned from the large wall monitor to look at her. "What brings you here in the middle of the night?"  
  
"Captain," responded T'Pol. "I was going to let the retrieval program run in an attempt to recover more of the Xindi database." She stepped into the room and moved to stand at Archer's side. "I didn't expect anyone to be here at this hour."  
  
Archer nodded. "Just checking on a few things."  
  
T'Pol looked up at the wall monitor to see the red image of a gas giant. "If you're having problems sleeping, perhaps Dr. Phlox can prescribe a stronger pain medication for your leg," she offered.  
  
"No, my leg's feeling okay actually," Archer replied.  
  
"Is something troubling you then?"  
  
"You mean other than the fact that we're all going to be in comas for four days, you mean?"  
  
"Dr. Phlox assures us it will be safe."  
  
"I know," Archer agreed. "But that still doesn't keep me from worrying."  
  
"I find the situation to be---disconcerting as well, but I trust the doctor implicitly."  
  
"Oh, I trust Phlox, T'Pol, it isn't that."  
  
T'Pol looked up at the captain. "You won't be in command for four days," she stated evenly.  
  
Archer visibly bristled. "Is that what you think? That I'm upset because I'm losing command for a few days?"  
  
"On the contrary, Captain. I believe you're upset because the safety of your crew will be out of your hands."  
  
Archer sighed. "You're my responsibility," he said quietly.  
  
"I agree. But for four days, we will be Phlox's responsibility. Unless you want to spend two weeks going around the disturbance, I suggest you accept that fact and try to get some rest. To say you've had an eventful day would be an understatement."  
  
"You're right there, T'Pol. But it was a successful day, too. Trip did it. Those sensors didn't pick up any sign of the ship when you brought her in to range."  
  
"Hopefully we will be deep in Xindi space by the time they discover the outpost was overtaken."  
  
The captain smiled then his expression changed. "How is Trip feeling?"  
  
"Captain?"  
  
"You had a session with him tonight, didn't you?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Well, how's he feeling?"  
  
"His arm is causing him some discomfort, but otherwise he seems to be doing well." She looked at the captain in profile. "He is most adept, however, at hiding his emotions. He must have acquired that skill at an early age."  
  
"He's been like that since I met him."  
  
"Indeed," replied T'Pol. "It can be---frustrating."  
  
Archer glanced at her. "You hide your emotions, T'Pol."  
  
"Vulcans suppress their emotions, Captain. There is a subtle difference."  
  
The captain brought his hand up to hide a smile, a gesture to which T'Pol had long ago become accustomed.  
  
She looked back at the display. "Commander Tucker is wondering if you are going to give him some time in the brig---for his insubordination."  
  
Archer chuckled. "He should be wondering. He disobeyed a direct order."  
  
"Are you going to reprimand him?"  
  
"No, but don't tell him that right away. I want him to stew for a while."  
  
T'Pol inhaled then released the breath slowly, feeling oddly relieved. "He said the two of you made---quite a team."  
  
"We always have," replied Archer with affection then he yawned.  
  
"You should retire for the night, Captain," urged T'Pol.  
  
"I think maybe I will." He turned to the door. "Sleep well, T'Pol."  
  
"Good night, Captain."  
  
  
  
Trip awoke in a fog, startled and confused.  
  
"Easy, Commander," said Dr. Phlox.  
  
The engineer shook his head to clear the cobwebs but to no avail. He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of his bunk then pushed himself to his feet. The room tilted and Trip swayed.  
  
"Take it slow," admonished the doctor.  
  
"I'm okay, Doc. How'd it go?"  
  
"Fine, Commander, just fine. Enterprise is on the other side of the disturbance."  
  
Trip headed to his door then, with Phlox at his side, left his quarters. "How's the cap'n?" he asked.  
  
"He's doing well. He's in the messhall, I believe," replied Dr. Phlox.  
  
Trip grinned lazily. His head was spinning as he walked beside the Denobulan.  
  
"How're you feeling?" asked Phlox.  
  
"A little woozy," replied the engineer.  
  
"I'm not surprised, you haven't eaten anything in four days," replied Phlox cheerfully. "Get to the messhall," he added with a wave of his hands.  
  
"Aye, aye, Doc," Trip replied with a chuckle. He took a right down another corridor and heard the doctor chatting to himself as he continued on to awaken T'Pol. They'd made it across the trans-dimensional field intact, thanks to the Denobulan, Trip thought, and now they were back on course for Azati Prime.  
  
Trip stumbled and ran his shoulder into the wall as the floor suddenly lurched sideways. He stopped. He'd been hungry before but he'd never felt so strange because of it; his thoughts were fuzzy and confused and shadows crowded his vision.  
  
Once the floor settled, Trip moved forward again then paused, struggling to remember where the messhall was located. He took another shaky step then stopped, wondering why he was even going to the messhall in the first place.  
  
The pain hit him out of nowhere and the engineer dropped to his knees gasping. His hands went to his head as lightning ripped through his skull. He heard himself cry out and he fell forward hitting the floor hard. Images rapidly assaulted him, his charred hometown, the mysterious spheres and a bright white room. He felt pain, all encompassing pain and smelled his own burning flesh in his nostrils and the taste of his own blood in his mouth.  
  
Trip cried out again.  
  
  
  
Phlox knelt beside the stricken commander where he lay on the floor and quickly injected medication into the side of his neck. Archer rested a comforting hand on Trip's shoulder as the younger man struggled against the pain.  
  
"Will he be alright, Doctor?" asked T'Pol quietly from over Phlox's shoulder.  
  
"I believe so," replied Phlox.  
  
"What happened?" asked Archer as he comforted his friend.  
  
"I'm not certain."  
  
Trip quieted then opened his eyes and looked around.  
  
"Easy, Trip," whispered the captain. "Take it easy."  
  
"How are you feeling, Commander?" asked Phlox.  
  
"I'm okay," replied Trip. He tried to sit up but Archer held him securely. "Really, I'm okay," he repeated with more certainty. The captain helped him to a sitting position but remained close, his brow furrowed in concern.  
  
Trip squeezed his eyes shut and dropped his chin to his chest.  
  
"You're not okay," admonished Archer. "Doc, we should get him to sickbay."  
  
The engineer put up his hand. "No, no. Just give me a minute." Then he looked up, his eyes wide with surprise. "I remember."  
  
"What?" asked the captain.  
  
"I remember everything."  
  
Phlox tucked his chin. "Everything?"  
  
Trip nodded then turned to Archer. "I remember the day we met, drinking beers at the 602, running the test---." He paused then he scowled. "I remember the attack on Earth and---and what happened to Lizzie." He squeezed his eyes shut again.  
  
"Do you remember your abduction?" asked T'Pol. She knelt down beside Phlox.  
  
"Yeah, yeah I do," replied the engineer as he wrapped his arms around his middle, his eyes still screwed tightly shut. "I couldn't understand anything they said and I can't remember exactly everything they did but, but---." He looked up at T'Pol. "I know it hurt like hell---'cause I can still feel it."  
  
Archer reached out to rest his hand on Trip's back but the commander pulled away. Phlox could see that the young man had started shaking. The captain reached out again and Trip looked at him imploringly then allowed the older man to touch him.  
  
Phlox sat back on his heels next to T'Pol. Sometime while Trip lay comatose, the door in his mind had been unlocked and flung wide opened leaving the commander with no other choice then to deal with the aftereffects of his torture.  
  
The doctor sighed then caught Archer's eyes. "We should get him to sickbay. I'd like to do a thorough exam," he said in a hushed tone.  
  
Archer nodded. "Come on, Trip," he coaxed. "Phlox wants to have a look at you." He helped the engineer to stand then wrapped his arm around Trip's waist to steady him.  
  
Phlox and T'Pol followed quietly behind the two officers as they all walked to sickbay.  
  
  
  
CONTINUED  
  



	6. Chapter Six

  
  
PART SIX  
  
  
  
Malcolm shook his head. "When Travis told me Phlox had us at warp two I thought he was joking."  
  
"Nope," Trip replied around a yawn. "He even re-routed power to the hull plating."  
  
"And I thought the good doctor wasn't paying attention."  
  
"He was. Like I told T'Pol and the cap'n, Phlox did one helluva job." He smiled slightly. "Left me with quite a mess but he did it and all by himself, too."  
  
Malcolm sipped his tea and eyed the engineer sitting across the messhall table from him. "If you don't mind my asking, when was the last time you got any rest?"  
  
Trip cradled his coffee mug, rotating it slowly between his hands. "No one has gotten much sleep these last few days, Malcolm, yourself included. Hell, this is the first time I've seen you since Phlox put us in those comas."  
  
"Just making sure the ship's ready for Azati Prime." Malcolm took another sip then cleared his throat. "So I hear you remember---everything."  
  
Trip pursed his lips. "Yep, sure do."  
  
"Is that why you've buried yourself in engineering?"  
  
The commander gazed fixedly at his cup. "I had to realign the warp coils after Phlox's little excursion, Malcolm. It's just taken more time than I expected." He lifted his eyes and met the lieutenant's. "But yeah, that's one of the reasons I've been holed up in engineering." He paused. "I'm a mess, Malcolm. I'm afraid to sleep 'cause every time I try---." He shivered then shook his head  
  
"Your sessions with the sub-commander aren't helping?"  
  
"Nope. I swear I can feel things---like I'm being burned alive."  
  
"You've got to find some way to deal with this, Commander. I'm sure Captain Archer would---."  
  
"He's got way too much on his mind already."  
  
"Well maybe T'Pol then. I'm sure she would---."  
  
Trip sat back in his chair and waved his hand. "Look, I'm fine. I'll deal with everything later. Right now there's just no time to worry about anything else but this mission."  
  
"You can't just let it fester, you know. You were tortured for God's sake."  
  
"Don't you think I know that?" Trip spat suddenly. He sighed then ran his fingers through his disheveled hair. "Look, I appreciate your concern, Malcolm, but we're close. Azati Prime is it---I can feel it. There's nothing more important right now then destroying that weapon."  
  
"But Commander---."  
  
"Lieutenant---drop it."  
  
Malcolm grimaced. "Aye, sir."  
  
"Good. Now I need to get back to work." Trip pushed away from the table and stood. He turned to go then hesitated. "You want to meet for breakfast?"  
  
Malcolm looked up at his friend. "0700 too early for you?" he asked with a teasing smile.  
  
Trip smiled in return. "0700's fine. Night, Malcolm."  
  
"See you in the morning, Trip."  
  
  
  
Jon slipped quietly into engineering then looked around for his friend. He'd seen Trip only a few times since the commander's memory had returned, knowing from experience not to push too hard, that the engineer liked to lose himself in his work. But on this particular night, Jon wanted to be in the presence of the person to whom he was closest. For a brief time at least, he wanted it to be like old times.  
  
"Hey, Cap'n," greeted Trip. "What brings you down here at this hour?"  
  
Jon turned to see Trip walking toward him. The engineer looked strained, his smile almost forced, his uniform wrinkled and dirty. He was wiping his hands on a cloth.  
  
"Did you need something?" the commander continued.  
  
Jon looked around. "Just checking in," he replied.  
  
"Right, just checking in," repeated Trip. He leaned against his workstation table. "Well, engines are running at peak efficiency, if that's what you're wondering."  
  
"Good to hear," remarked Jon as he sat in Trip's chair. He looked up at his friend. "And my Chief Engineer?"  
  
"Running at peak efficiency, too, Cap'n."  
  
Jon leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table.  
  
"Now, you want to tell me the real reason you're down here at this ungodly hour?"  
  
Jon snorted softly. "There's no fooling you, is there?"  
  
Trip tossed aside the cloth then lifted himself to sit on the table. "Nope." He nudged Jon's arm with his knee. "You worried about reaching Azati Prime tomorrow?"  
  
"Aren't you?"  
  
"Never been more scared in my life."  
  
Jon squinted up at Trip. "This is it, isn't it?"  
  
The engineer nodded, his expression sober.  
  
Jon sat back and expelled a long breath. "I'm going to do whatever it takes to get this crew home, Trip."  
  
"I know that, Cap'n, and the crew knows that, but we also know failure isn't an option. We're all ready to do what we have to do to destroy that weapon. You gotta know that."  
  
The captain nodded. "I do," he replied then he paused for a long moment. "Things are going to happen fast tomorrow, Trip, so fast that we may not get the chance to say good-bye."  
  
Trip dropped his chin to his chest but remained silent.  
  
"I'm not too good at these things, but---," Jon began.  
  
"Cap'n, please," Trip said quietly. "Don't."  
  
"I need to, Trip. You need to know what you mean to me."  
  
"If it's anything like what you mean to me, Cap'n, then I'd say I'm one lucky sonofabitch."  
  
Jon smiled and patted his friend's knee. Their eyes met for a long moment then both men laughed self-consciously.  
  
Trip hopped off the table and extended his hand. "It's been a real honor, Cap'n."  
  
Jon stood and took Trip's hand in both of his. "The feeling's mutual, Commander," he replied softly.  
  
The engineer looked away and cleared his throat. "I should get back to work."  
  
Jon pulled his friend into his side and locked an arm around his neck. "You need to get some rest, Trip. You look like death warmed over." He released the commander but left his hand resting on Trip's back.  
  
"You looked in the mirror lately, sir?"  
  
Jon smiled. "You got me there," he replied. "But I don't think I can sleep---not tonight."  
  
Trip gave him a sideways grin. "You still have some of that Andorian Ale left?"  
  
Jon guided Trip toward the door. "I think I can find a bottle somewhere," he replied as he slung his arm around his friend's shoulders. "I may even be able to find a new water polo match, too."  
  
Trip rolled his eyes dramatically. "Water polo, sir?"  
  
Jon laughed. Just like old times, he thought with affection. At least for a little while longer, it was just like old times.  
  
  
  
THE END  
  



End file.
